Eighteen
by seriouscaseofthegayface
Summary: I remember it like it was yesterday. How could I forget it? The worst night of my entire life." Angel relives her worst memory during her final moments.


**A/N: In order to appease my VERY patient reviewers, I decided to write this! I really hope you guys enjoy it (: Reviews are my life, so please just take two seconds to drop me a line and say what you thought! It would truly make my day! And, on with the story... **

**Angel's POV**

I'd always believed my life would flash before my eyes just as I was about to die... you know, sort of like those Lifetime movies they show on TV. I was almost looking forward to it in a really weird, morbid way - a way to see my life again, all the things I'd done, sort of a comforting thing to send me off to sleep. So, when I was actually curled up on that hospital bed, wrapped in Collins's arms, and only one scene - a time I hadn't wanted to remember - swam before my eyes, I felt a little cheated. Why would the universe want me to remember this? Something I'd blocked out for so long... but now it came to the surface.

I remember it like it was yesterday. How could I forget it? The worst night of my entire life. Worse than the night my dad died, worse than the night I ran away from home, even worse than the night I found out I had AIDS...

I had been so happy coming home that horrible evening. I'd made twenty dollars while I was drumming and, instead of being clever and saving some of the money, I impulsively decided to spend it all on Chinese takeout for me and Mimi. Times had been hard for both of us lately and we'd had to stretch money a long way, which involved a lot of skipped meals. I hated the thought of Mimi not eating (not that she ate much food when she had it, anyway) and I _knew_ she couldn't resist chicken chow mein, so why not splurge a little?

I skipped down the icy streets with a steaming bag in either hand, imagining how Mimi's face would light up when she saw what I had for her. Despite being only two years older than her, I mothered Mimi profusely. I cooked her meals, cleaned her filthy room, looked after her when she felt sick... everything. She had somehow learned to deal with it all and we had a pretty peaceful (although penniless) relationship. We were far from perfect, but we always managed to get by. Me and Mimi, against the world.

I paused in the hall as I tried to hold the two bags and open the apartment door at the same time, shifting the hot bags of food from one arm to the other. After several failed attempts, I succeeded and stumbled over the welcome mat and into the apartment.

"Meems, I'm back!" I called, pushing the door closed. "You won't _believe_ what I bought for us!"

The entire apartment was silent.

"Mimi?" I raised my voice a little, thinking she was asleep.

Still no reply.

Slightly more worried, I walked through the apartment, checking rooms, as quickly as my stilettos and the bags of now-lukewarm food would allow. Finally, I pushed open the door to Mimi's bedroom to find her lying face down on the bed. I breathed a sigh of relief and tiptoed over to her.

"Mimi, hun?" I shook her shoulder gently. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Mimi didn't even stir. I frowned – she was normally a pretty light sleeper.

"Mimi?" I had a feeling that something was very, very wrong.

"Wake up, sweetie." I rolled her over carefully, and what I saw caused me to gasp and drop the Chinese food on the floor. Rice and chicken balls went everywhere, but I didn't even notice. I just stared down at my best friend's face. Her big brown eyes, normally bursting with life, were wide and distant. My heart felt like it was going to burst right out of my chest. I went to check her pulse – perfectly normal. Then what...?

I felt my blood run cold. Enclosed in Mimi's fist was a small bag. A bag that, minutes ago, had been full of white powder. With trembling fingers, I rolled up her sleeve. Sure enough, an empty needle was sticking into the crease of her elbow. I pulled it out and, in a fit of uncontrolled rage, I snapped it against my knee and threw it across the room, where it landed with a satisfying _thump_.

I buried my head in Mimi's hair. "Cariño, why do you do this to me?" I whispered. "To _yourself_?"

Almost as if she'd heard me, Mimi's left hand relaxed and revealed a crumpled up piece of paper. Curious, I picked it up and opened it out. My heart stopped.

_No, no, no. Mimi, no. Please Lord, no._

I couldn't believe it. I _wouldn't _believe it. I stared down at the two words, the two horrible words, willing them to disappear.

**HIV: Positive**

_Not Mimi. Please. Not Mimi. My best friend, my little girl. Anyone but Mimi. _

I don't know how long I stayed there, cradling Mimi's head in my arms. At some point I started crying - my large, wet tears falling onto Mimi's face. She stared up at me blankly, in her own blissful world.

This gorgeous girl in front of me, who was just starting out in life, had been sentenced to die. Her life was over before it had even started.

She was eighteen years old.


End file.
